


O'er the Park We Go

by Rionarch



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Gen, the long awaited christmas episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:08:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rionarch/pseuds/Rionarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hopeful Christmas episodes from the chat. </p><p>SPOILERS FOR SEASON FOUR FINALE</p>
            </blockquote>





	O'er the Park We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written because everyone needs a little catharsis right about now.

 

"Mrs. Suit, I do insist. You shouldn't be alone over the holidays and no, Satchmo doesn't count." It had been a terrible few weeks since Peter had been locked up. Everyone was trying their best but nothing was being promised. Thankfully Neal hadn't run and the security footage was on their side. That didn't make the holidays any less lonely.

"I could have just gone to my mother's, Moz." He gave her a look and swiped a few snowflakes from his glasses.

"And be away from the suit? I doubt it. Just a little ride through the park. It's tradition!"

"Who's tradition?" Last year they had barely been able to get him to wear a red sweater. 

"As delightful your company is you do enjoy the cliche ridden nuances of American post-pastoral yearnings." They reached the stage coach, it's rider dressed in a black wool coat and his hat drawn down quite low. It was suspicious but Mozzie wasn't going to put her in danger- _purposefully_. 

"Now scoot up!" It was adorable how he tried to lift her. Was someone on the other side of the coach?

"Uhm, aren't you doing this the wrong way?" She was sitting with her legs out and her back to where she thought she had seen someone. The coach gave a start and the horse began trotting away.

"Wait! No, slow down. My friend- Mozzie?!" He just waved at her while she grabbed on and tried not to slip off. She bit her lip trying not to cry. Had she wanted to be alone this Christmas it would have been better to cry in her bed than outdoors.

"Have a good ride Mrs. Suit!" The driver still hadn't turned around or slowed down. Hadn't even awklowedged her, really. It took her a few wiggles to try and get on the seat properly whena hand went to her shoulder and helped her up. Her purse was already out of her hand and hitting whoever her attacker was.

"El."

She stopped and looked at her companion. He lifted up his pant leg to show his tracking anklet, and moved the gaudy scarf down lower to show his face, pale from so many weeks inside and trying to prove that he was an innocent man. She was defiently crying by now and the lights around the park blurred together.

"Peter. My god, Peter. How did you get out?" He reached over to hug her, putting a kiss on the top of her head and holding her.

"Aquitted. Diana called in a few favors to have the paperwork rushed for today. Clinton came to get me out." They all knew. Those _jerks_.

"Neal and Mozzie?" Then, the driver spoke.

"...will be making fun of Peter's anklet for a very, very long time." Peter leaned down for a kiss.

"Merry Christmas, El."


End file.
